Crisis of Faith
by FaithinBones
Summary: After Booth is freed from prison and has returned home to his family he has a crisis of faith.


After 'The Geek in the Guck' - I watched this episode the other day and this story popped into my head. I hope you like it.

A/N: This is my 200th fanfic.

I don't own Bones.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

At first it was the little things. When they ate dinner, Booth no longer said a quick little prayer. When they passed St. Patrick's on 10th street or the Washington National Cathedral on Wisconsin Avenue or the myriad of other catholic churches they came across when driving about the city, Booth no longer crossed himself. When someone sneezed, he didn't say 'bless you'.

Brennan noticed these things, but put them down to her husband being preoccupied with his thoughts. He seemed to be quiet and introspective. His stay in prison had been dangerous and while there he'd suffered from several beatings. He'd been unable to rely upon the prison guards to help him because they had considered him to be a 'cop killer'. This had left him open to abuse that had slowly escalated. If his incarceration had lasted much longer, his friends and family assumed that he would have eventually been murdered at the hands of one of the prisoners. Brennan knew that his mistreatment and the betrayal by the system that he'd been steadfastly loyal to had changed him. She just hadn't realized that his faith in his God had been fractured and was part of that change.

The first Sunday he was home, Booth hadn't gone to church. The fact that they we were all still trying to find out who had killed Wesley Foster and why and who had tried to arrange to have Booth killed in his home meant that no one had taken any time off for anything including church services, if they were believers.

Then Lance Sweets had been murdered and Booth had seemed to lose a piece of himself. He had been filled with rage and Brennan had found him in their home, a pile of weapons on a table, preparing to murder Hugo Sanderson. Brennan had been appalled that Booth would go after the man because he thought Sanderson was calling the shots and had ordered Sweets' death. There was no proof that that is what happened, but Booth seemed to have slipped into an unthinking rage and wanted to end what was going on no matter the cost to him or her.

She had stopped him, but only after threatening to leave him. He'd calmed down, but his faith seemed to have cracked further under the strain. He was broken and Brennan wasn't sure he could be fixed.

After they had finally found the head of the conspiracy and Glen Durant had been arrested Booth returned to work for the FBI, but his odd behavior seemed to increase. He continued to ignore the religious part of his life and barely slept. Booth no longer went to confession and he didn't seemed to be concerned about Christine's religious upbringing anymore. He was being contrary and Brennan was frightened for him. Booth wasn't acting like Booth anymore.

Oooooooooooooooooooo

"Booth . . . tomorrow is Sunday." Brennan was determined to push Booth back towards a sense of normalcy. "Would you like me to meet you after you go to mass at the Royal Diner? We can eat a late breakfast and then go to the zoo with Christine."

His gaze glued to the television, Booth chose to ignore the question hoping Brennan would let it go.

But of course, she didn't. "Booth . . . I asked you a question."

Reluctantly, Booth turned to look at his wife. "I'll tell you what, I'll get up and make breakfast early and then maybe we can go on a picnic. The weather is supposed to be nice and Christine would probably like it."

Frustrated with Booth, Brennan sighed. "Why don't you go to church anymore, Booth? Church has always been important to you."

His temper rising, Booth tried to control it. "You don't believe in God, so why are you bugging me about going to church. You consider me to be superstitious, so I thought you'd be happy if I quit going to church."

Brennan slowly shook her head. "Just because I don't believe in God doesn't mean I expect you to give up your beliefs . . . I know this isn't about me and my beliefs, Booth. You have always ignored me when it comes to church. You love God and you love going to church."

"I may love God, but he obviously doesn't love me." Booth stood up. "I don't want to talk about it anymore, Bones. This is between me and God and I need you to stay out of it."

Surprised, Brennan watched Booth stalk out of the room and down the hallway towards their bedroom. Uncertain what she could do about his loss of faith or his war with God, Brennan knew that she needed to talk to someone else.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Aldo was unloading his dishwasher when Brennan entered Paradise Lost. Surprised to see her, he placed the glass he was holding on the shelf and turned to face her. "Hey, here for a glass of wine?"

After she was seated next to the bar, Brennan nodded her head. "Yes, Merlot please."

The dark smudges under the anthropologist's eyes told the bar owner that Brennan was tired. Placing the filled glass on the bar in front of her, Aldo cocked his head to the side. "It's been awhile since I've seen you. I hope you and Booth are doing okay."

Brennan felt like she was betraying Booth by coming to Aldo, but at this point she felt her husband needed help. "Booth doesn't go to church anymore. He thinks God doesn't love him anymore."

A little rattled, Aldo stared at Brennan with his mouth open. Shaking his head, he finally spoke. "Booth loves God. No matter how much shit has been thrown against him, no matter how much he's been through, he's always loved God."

"I think he may still love God." Brennan sighed. "He just thinks God doesn't love him back and he's angry. He's been angry about God since our friend Lance Sweets died. He won't go to church or say prayers."

Aldo closed his eyes and tried to think how he could help his friend. Slowly he opened his eyes and nodded his head. "I'll try to talk to him."

"Thank you." Brennan was relieved. "I don't believe in God, but Booth does and to see him angry at God is very disturbing. It isn't who he is. I'm worried about him and his future . . . our future."

Oooooooooooooooooooo

He called Booth and asked him to drop by and visit him when he had the chance. Booth found the time and dropped by the next Saturday he had free. Aldo was a dear friend and Booth felt guilty that he hadn't seen the former priest since he'd been released from prison. Entering the bar, he removed his sunglasses and placed them in his jacket pocket. "Hello Father. It's been awhile."

Irritated, Aldo placed his hands on the bar. "Aldo, Booth. I'm not a priest and you know it."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth sat down next to the bar. "How about a beer?"

Aldo grabbed a bottle of Yuengling from the cooler and handed it to Booth. "When Temperance called me and told me you were out of prison, I was relieved. I was really worried about you."

Booth drank some of his beer and didn't say anything.

His friend's silence like a wall between them, Aldo knew that Booth didn't want to talk about his past problems, but he looked like hell. The dark smudges under the eyes, the haggard look on his face told Aldo that even though Booth's name had been cleared and he was back at work, all was not well. "I even prayed for you. I told God to get off his keister and take care of you."

Not really amused, Booth snorted anyway. "Yeah right."

The cynicism from Booth a little startling, Aldo leaned against the bar. "Don't you think he helped you? You're out of prison and your name has been cleared."

"Right, he helped me." Booth felt his anger starting to rise and he wasn't sure he could control it. "Let's see, when I was kid, my Dad beat the shit out of me . . . my mother ran away and left me and my brother with our abusive father, so that worked out so well . . . when I was 19 I was sent to Iraq and I was captured by the Republican Guard and tortured . . . It's a miracle that I'm alive let alone that I can walk . . . I've been kidnapped, shot a few times, my wife was framed for murder . . . she was almost killed when someone at the Jeffersonian tried to murder her . . . I was attacked in my home and almost died . . . I was framed for murder and put in prison . . . I was used as a fucking piñata in prison and when I got out of there one of my friends was murdered and that's just the highlights of my life. God really loves me alright."

Slowly shaking his head, Aldo reached out and placed his hand on Booth's hand. "And yet you came through all of that. You're alive and you have a family that loves you. Yeah, you've had it rough . . . more than rough, but you've always brushed that stuff off and kept moving on. You've never doubted God before . . ."

"Of course I have." Booth moved his hand away from Aldo's touch. "I'm not . . . of course I've questioned it. How many times did I come to you while I was in the Army about my doubts about what I was doing? It drove you out of the priesthood, so you know it was bad . . . Maybe I'm being punished for taking all those lives. I thought joining the FBI and helping to find murderers and to help kidnap victims would help my case with the man above, but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I've been condemned because of what I did . . . killing over 50 men . . . maybe that can't be fixed."

Aldo reached out and grabbed Booth's hand again. "Don't say things like that. Sure I have problems with God, but you don't. You love God. Yes you were beat as a child by a bastard of a father, but your grandfather rescued you and he gave you a loving home. Your mother ran away because she was afraid she was going to die . . . that's what you told me . . . sure she could have took you with her, but we both know she was weak . . . Yes you were a prisoner of war and you were tortured, but you were rescued and your feet were fixed. You can walk, you don't sit in a wheelchair, so you aren't crippled . . . You were kidnapped by the Gravedigger, but Temperance rescued you . . . you've been shot, but you didn't die and it hasn't kept you from doing the things you want to . . . you were falsely accused and thrown in prison, but you were released and your name was cleared . . . yes you were beat up in prison, but you told me you got a few licks in and they didn't beat you down or kill you . . . Lance was murdered, but you didn't have anything to do with that. He was doing his job and he was murdered to keep him from bringing down a traitor. You and Temperance broke open a nationwide conspiracy and brought down a secret organization that has been manipulating our government for years . . . Yes, yes . . . bad things have happened to you and to Temperance, but you were helped to get out of those situations and you're both alive and well."

Shocked that Aldo was defending God, Booth slowly took a sip of his beer and once more removed his hand from Aldo's reach. Not sure what to think, he thought about what Aldo had just said and tried to reconcile his anger and point of view with Aldo's version of the facts.

Booth's silence told Aldo that his friend was thinking about what he'd said. "You never thought you'd have a family of your own, but look what happened. You found the woman of your dreams and she loves you. You have a daughter with her. You have a son that loves you. You're a rich man Booth. Not everyone gets a love like you do. Temperance loves you so much she risked herself to save you. She didn't give up on you. Yes your old house was destroyed, but you have a new house. Temperance knew that you had to have a home to come home to and she busted her butt to make sure you had one. I've seen the house. She filled it with love, Booth. Her love for you. God let you have the one thing you've always wanted . . . A family . . . a family Booth and what a treasure that is."

His words sinking in, Booth placed his bottle of beer down and pulled his lips between his teeth. After a while, Booth gave his friend a sad smile. "I've been tested."

Aldo nodded his head. "You have."

"Bones does love me." Booth leaned against the bar. "I never thought that would happen, but it did and she really does love me. No matter what I've done . . . no matter how much I've screwed up things, she still loves me."

"She really does." Aldo noticed that Booth seemed to be just a little less tense than when he had first entered the bar. "God made sure you had someone by your side to help you and she's done a great job . . . She's saved your sorry ass a few times that's for sure."

Booth laughed. "Yeah, that's for sure and we have a great kid. Christine is such a sweetheart and just like her mother. Smart as a whip and really brave . . . I guess I'm blessed."

"You are." Aldo smiled. "I wish I was as blessed as you are."

Oooooooooooooooooooo

Booth entered the house and found Brennan in the kitchen. "Hey Bones . . . where's Christine?"

Her hair tied up in a ponytail, Brennan was wiping down the top of the island. "Max came and got her. Did you enjoy your visit with Aldo?"

A slight smile on his face, Booth nodded his head. "I think I should have gone and talked to him sooner. He straightened me out on something."

Brennan liked the sound of that. "That's good. I . . ." Her nose itching, she suddenly sneezed.

"Bless you, Bones." Booth smiled. "You know you . . ."

Surprised at Booth's response, Brennan dropped her cloth and raced around the counter. Throwing her arms around Booth's neck, she kissed him. "Thank you."

Amused and just a little confused, Booth returned her kiss. "You're welcome . . . um, thank you for what?"

Her hands now moved around to his back, Brennan stared into his puzzled face. "You told me bless you when I sneezed. You haven't said that in weeks . . . months really."

"Well, if that's how you're going to react every time I say it, then I guess I'll have to say it more often." Booth kissed her tenderly and stared at her bright blue eyes. "I love you Bones. Never forget that. I'll love you 'til the day I die."

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Let me know what you think of my story. Thank you.


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